Forever Counting Stars
by NyleveLlom
Summary: It's WWI and twin brothers Matthew and Alfred try to stay together in this chaotic hell. Warning: battle and death scenes.


_So lately I've only been doing small writings, testing how much I can do within a short amount of time and pages. So it's kind of an experiment story. I highly recommend listening to the song_ Brothers _sung by Vic Mignogna. Some parts of the battle scene are not 100% accurate but I did my best to fit in historical accurateness with the story. I was trying for WWI since that's when chemical weapons were first created and used during modern warfare...anyway...I'll shut up now. Enjoy._

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><p>Matthew gripped his rifle with one hand, the other clinging tightly to his brother. The air was heavy with death, dirt flying into their eyes and explosions by their heads blinding them. They were lucky to even be together, many families had been separated and now wondered the fate of their kin. Matthew was determined to keep his twin brother by his side.<p>

He glanced back at Alfred. Blonde hair was plastered under a helmet, that similar wild strand hidden from sight. He was pale faced, fear widening his blue eyes but a fiery determination to live burned in his orbs. Matthew returned his attention forward as the wooden ladder came into view. He gulped at the sight of two men standing back with guns ready for those who dared turn back into the trenches. There was no going back.

Matthew released Alfred's arm and began to ascend the ladder, carefully noted where the bullets flew overhead. Launching himself forward he gripped his gun and charged into the open, running for cover as soon as possible while releasing as many rounds as he could. He hit the ground and glanced back, seeing Alfred pop out of the trench and run into the hellish brawl. This was suicide. But it had to be done.

It was impossible to hear anything over the sound of guns but Matthew felt his heart stop when he heard a scream. His head shot around, despite the danger, and watched in horror as Alfred fell on the bloodied ground.

"Alfred!"

Matthew forgot everything, forgot the war and the bullets. He ran to his brother and crouched down by his side, keeping low. Matthew grabbed the back of the dirty uniform and flipped Alfred onto his back. Alfred coughed weakly, a single trail of blood running down his chin. Relief flooded through Matthew. He was alive.

Then he saw it. A terrible wound in Alfred's stomach, the uniform torn and blood seeping through faster than a river's rapids.

"Oh god," Matthew grabbed his gear and shifted through his supplies for bandages," oh god, Alfred!"

Blue eyed looked at him blearily, Alfred's glasses had fallen off when he fallen. "Matt..?"

"Shh, Alfred, don-"

"GAS!"

Matthew only had a moment to react before billowing yellow smoke enveloped them. He tore his gas mask from his pack, keeping his nose and mouth covered in a feeble attempt to shield himself from the poisonous fumes. Without a second thought he lifted Alfred's head and slipped the mask over his face. Alfred's eyes widened and he began to protest through the mask, he was goner anyway. But Matthew ignored him and draped his body over his wounded brother, protecting him from whatever could come from the smoke.

It seemed like hours of lying in that barren land surrounded in smoke, listening to screams of terror and pain, to the sound of slaughter right above their heads, to listen to each other's ragged breaths. Matthew was coughing, struggling to stifle his sounds with his wool uniform, his skin and eyes stinging. Finally the fighting move farther away and the smoke dissipated in the wind.

They were alone.

Matthew slowly rolled off Alfred and sat up, struggling to breathe clean air in his damaged lungs. He had been exposed to the gas for too long. Alfred's open wound was now bubbling with sick yellow poison, there was no saving him now. Matthew slowly removed the mask, praying that by some miracle that Alfred was alive and would continue to live. Blue eyes, dimmed with dying light, stared upwards. Matthew felt his burned throat tighten and he choked, struggling not to cry.

Suddenly, Alfred spoke, his voice hoarse and low. "Stars…"

Matthew looked up. The night sky was painted in a wondrous array of heavenly jewels. Cold orbs mocking them down on earth where they were dying. Matthew never found any comfort in the stars. But Alfred did. He was always looking into the sky.

Matthew forced a smile. "How many can you count?"

Alfred's white lip twitched in familiarity, it was a game they played as children. Counting stars. "One...two...three...four…"

Matthew laid next to Alfred on his back and began counting with his dying twin. "Five...six...seven…"

Matthew was not sure when Alfred's voice went silent and when he began to count alone. He only remembered the jolting silence. Matthew propped himself up on his elbow, the gasses causing pain to flare through his head. Alfred was not breathing but his eyes remained wide open, forever counting stars.

Matthew allowed his tears to fall as he shut Alfred's eyes, flinching at the cold skin. He was going to follow him in death, he knew it. But at least they would still be together. He laid back down and looked away from the sky, too hurt to forgive the merciless heavens. Instead he was greeted with the sight of a broken tree. It was torn from war and yet he could spot a single red leaf, clinging onto the branch. The sight soothed him for some reason even though he was choking on blood and poison. And he entered the darkness.


End file.
